


(A Moment Of) Respite

by AkariAikawa



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, One Shot, Unbeta'd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:07:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27160906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkariAikawa/pseuds/AkariAikawa
Summary: Being human is okay.
Relationships: Angeal Hewley & Sephiroth, Zack Fair & Sephiroth
Comments: 8
Kudos: 25





	(A Moment Of) Respite

**Author's Note:**

> This fic begged to be written during class, and I obliged. Unbeta'd

Angeal is awoken by the silent cries of his silver-haired friend.

Not really, if you counted the times he woke up briefly, but he had just gone back to sleep when he felt someone moving around across from him on the L-shaped bunk. 

They had just come back from Wutai, the memories of the battlefield fresh on their minds (and the first for him and Genesis). Their arrival and dinner had been a silent affair, exhaustion and stress creeping up on their minds. They’d been given the day off for the next week, a reward for killing hundreds, if not thousands on the field (the thought makes him sick.)

He gets up carefully, but the lump across from him still flinches (so does he), so he backs up a bit, then tries to get closer. “You were tossing and turning around last night. You okay?” he whisper-asks the teen across from him. No response.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks again, looking at the slightly shaking lump in the dim room. He glances at the clock (4 AM) and yes, it is far too early to start the day. He’d seen this with fellow SOLDIER members on the battlefield, back when they were in Wutai, the trauma of taking a life with your own hands for the first time, and the nightmares following it. (He heard the older, more experienced Firsts talking about it, whispers of ‘ _ far too young’ _ and how it isn’t fair to them.)

(deep down, he didn’t expect Sephiroth to get them, too.)

He pulls himself out of the thoughts when he hears the bunk bed creak a bit. His silver-haired friend goes down, his hair hiding his face. He watches him exit the room, slipping through the door and closing it slightly. Quietly, he follows him, finding the young First washing his hands over the sink, the dim green glow from his eyes illuminating the surroundings.

Sephiroth’s eyes were glazed with exhaustion, silt pupils dilated in the dark. Angeal cautiously placed a hand on his shoulder, bringing his friend’s focus away from his hands. He doesn’t respond, hands rubbing vigorously over running water. 

It’s red now, he thinks, red like the number of lives he conquered over the battlefield. Red like the blood he splatters throughout the field. There’s blood on his hands, and it’s never his. He rubs his hand raw, the water seeping through the small cuts (just maybe, he’ll wash his hands holy.)

He turns to his friend just in time to see the worry in his friend’s eyes. 

“You there?” Angeal asks softly, hand carefully sliding down, tracing patterns on his arm. “We’re inside now, in Headquarters. You’re in Midgar, in your apartment.” his friend takes his hands gently, which he accepts, coaxing him to the couch. “We’re in the living room, and it’s 4 AM in the morning, see?” he gestures to the clock.

He tries not to look at the bloodied soldiers on the field, looking up to where he sees a Wutaian trooper aiming right for where he is since he missed one and his body can’t move quick enough to dodge —

Angeal sees his friend’s eyes widen, freezing up, the hand on his grasp shaking, and silently berates himself for the mistake he made. He touches Sephiroth’s other hand gently, careful not to startle the teen. (Just like Genesis during thunderstorms when they were kids, he can do this.)

“Hey, look at me.” His friend asks, and he does so, looking into his glowing blue eyes. He tries to not look anywhere else, focusing on his friend. “Deep breaths with me,” He persuades. The sounds in the field go quiet, replaced by the silent hum of the electronics and the ticking of the clock. He goes through the breathing exercises with him, letting go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“My apologies,” he rasps out in what seems like an eternity later, eyes downcast. The coffee table seems pretty interesting right now. “I’m not supposed to act like this,” he says, looking away from his friend. “The war needs a weapon that conquers, not break.” he continues automatically, recalling his first time on the field when someone asked about it. “This won’t happen again.”

Angeal thinks about what to say for a bit, biting his lower lip on instinct. He vaguely recalls the rumors about Sephiroth being raised by ShinRa, and wonders how much he had to withstand before them.

“You’re not a weapon,” he finally says with full confidence, clasping his hands in his. “You’re human, just like the rest of us.” a pause. “You care about your comrades,” he continues, recalling the moment when the silver-haired teen had taken the brunt of a hit for him. “You have feelings, dreams, and honor. Weapons don’t do that. You didn’t make a mistake today, being human is nothing to be sorry about.”

Sephiroth doesn’t have anything to say to that, eyes oddly feeling wet, so he nods, squeezing the hands that held his.

* * *

Years later, a death fresh on his mind, he finds Zack knocking into his office. He lets the dark-haired teen in, unsurprised to see the puppy’s eyes to be red and puffy with tears. He hears what he has to say, the events leading to their friend’s death.

“I killed him!” Zack exclaims, voice broken and tired. He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I should’ve stopped him before it happened but I didn’t!” he continues, voice trailing to a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

_ “Are we monsters?” _ he asks just below a whisper.

Then he goes silent, bright purple eyes in a haze.

Sephiroth gets up from his desk, kneeling by the teen so he can gently take the hand on Zack’s lap, rubbing comforting circles on them. “Look at me,” he asks, and Zack does. 

He takes a deep breath, prompting him to follow, then tries to console him. “It’s not your fault,” he starts, trying to make his voice as friendly as possible. “You’re human, just like me,” he says, although he doubts the truth of his words. “You have feelings, dreams, and honor,” he continues, recalling the words his friend had said. “Being human is nothing to be sorry about.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and Comments appreciated!! and apologies for the mistakes


End file.
